


i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands)

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: IT (2019)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, M/M, Road Trips, Stanley Uris Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York.It’ll be just like it could’ve been,Richie had said once.(Or, Eddie and Richie resume.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 62
Kudos: 834





	i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands)

Myra’s yells follow them down the street. 

She stands in the backyard for it. She’s also crying, which is worse. Eddie would prefer her to stick to yelling. But that would be out of character, she always went for tears over raising her voice. The thing is, if she were _just_ yelling, the guilt might be lighter. As it is, Eddie has to dig his fingers into his knees and focus on the road ahead so he doesn’t do something stupid, like tell Richie to stop or wind down the window and try to apologize to his wife again.

Because they’re still married. Not for long, but until that divorce comes through, they’re still Mr. and Mrs. Kaspbrak. In sickness and health. ‘Til death do they part.

 _Until memory is restored do we part_ , Eddie thinks. It had taken three weeks after Derry for him to realize he couldn’t do this anymore.

They turn a corner. Myra’s yelling fades into nothing.

“Sooo,” Richie says from the drivers’ seat. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Denny’s?”

“We’re not doing dinner at _Denny’s_ ,” Eddie says.

Richie snorts. He looks over at Eddie, starts to say something, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Eyes on the _road_!”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Man, I was gonna say how Denny’s would add to the theme of re-creating the road trip we should’ve taken in our lost teens, but you know what? You’re already batting a thousand. Pitch your voice up an octave and develop acne and you might as well be your sixteen year old self, Eds.”

He puts his hands at ten and two and stares at Eddie pointedly.

“Is this good, Eddie? Is this up to your precious standards-”

“Eyes,” Eddie says, “on the fucking road, Trashmouth.”

Richie sighs exaggeratedly, but obeys. 

Eddie leans back in his seat.

They’d tried to do this when they were growing up in Derry. Richie had been saving up money and Eddie had been secretly learning how to drive in Richie’s truck. They’d wanted to spend the summer before Junior year coasting around the country, seeing the sights.

And then Eddie had moved the month before summer break. A hasty decision, or at least a hasty reveal to Eddie - he only found out two weeks prior. He and Richie spent a lot of that two weeks joking about how they should go on that road trip now, just get in the car and drive. Maybe they wouldn’t come back.

Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York.

 _It’ll be just like it could’ve been_ , Richie had said once.

 _It’d better not be_ , Eddie replied. _We can afford motels, for one. I’m not sleeping at the side of the road like we would’ve done at sixteen._

Richie had called him a spoilsport. Eddie had pretended not to enjoy it.

And now, here they are. Cruising down the streets that will lead them away from somewhere Eddie sorely doesn’t want to be, into a new life.

But before that new life, there’s the road trip.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They get snacks at a gas station. It’s the worst dinner Eddie’s had in literal decades.

“We can’t survive on this,” he tells Richie as they eat in the car. “You know we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Yay for finally taking the road trip, whatever, but we can’t get by on sugar and salt and four hours of sleep like we could in high school.”

“Who said anything about four hours of sleep,” Richie says. He’s eating a Twizzler in the most obnoxious way possible: no hands, just sucking it in with his mouth, chewing, then sucking in the next part. Eddie can’t look directly at him right now.

Richie continues, “I’m getting a full eight hours sleep, baby. You wait ‘til we hit those motels. I’m gonna sleep so hard.”

Eddie snorts. “I remember how hard you sleep, man. Hyped up longer than anyone else, and then in the span of five minutes you’d be conked out and snoring. Octopusing everyone at the sleepover.”

Richie laughs weirdly. “Ha. Yeah.”

Then he goes back to eating his Twizzler. Eddie looks away.

The night before his mom moved them out of Derry, Richie showed up at his window. He wasn’t crying, but he was close to it.

 _Come with me,_ he’d told Eddie. _No joke, just - come on, Eds, you and me, busting out of this piece of shit town. If you go with your mom, you’ll forget Derry like Bev and Bill and Stan. We can’t forget each other if we stick together._

Eddie had actually thought about it. He let himself imagine it, riding away with Richie into the sunset, barely any money but stumbling into jobs and adventures on the way, getting to college on student loans or something. They wouldn’t remember the others, but they’d have each other.

They’d caught on by then, the memory wipe that happened after you got out of Derry. It’d happened to a few members of the Losers club as they all moved away, year after year. Eddie was terrified of it happening to him; the slow unsticking of his mind, everyone he loved, everything they’d done together. But he’d been more terrified of his mom. What she’d say to him. And it’s not like he could _leave_ her. She needed him. And more importantly, _he_ needed _her_.

So he’d said no. He’d hugged Richie and said he’d see him tomorrow before he left. Then he’d climbed into bed and curled into a ball and tried not to think about what he’d turned down and what could be waiting ahead.

Almost thirty years later, Eddie sits in the passenger’s seat and doesn’t look at Richie. He looks over the receding New York skyline, where the sunset is casting shadows.

Life would be different if he said yes. But he can’t let himself think of it. They’re here now. And coming together like this, finally, to do this road trip they’d planned so long ago, it’s like - it’s -

 _The story can resume,_ Eddie thinks. He read that once. It was in a love story, he’s pretty sure, something he picked up at the airport on a work trip. He’d liked the line, but he hasn’t thought of it in a long time. 

Beside him, Richie makes a wet noise around a Twizzler.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie shoots him a look. “Unavoidable.”

“ _Very_ avoidable,” Eddie says. “Just eat like a normal person.” 

This sparks a debate on eating methods, mostly because Eddie pushes and Richie is happy to push back. Eddie lets himself get wound up and focuses on that rather than everything that’s waking up in his chest.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They check into a motel, because Eddie was fucking serious about not sleeping in the car. Eddie might be between jobs right now, but they can both afford it and their backs would murder them otherwise.

They get the same room. Different beds. The guy at the desk asks about this, and Richie’s smile gets tight as he confirms that yep, two beds, thank you.

Eddie waits for him to make a joke, but Richie keeps quiet. Eddie thinks about bringing it up - Richie had come out to the Losers in a group chat a few days after they all left Derry, and Eddie knows there are still a lot of hangups there. There have to be, if he didn’t come out to anyone until he was 40.

Eddie knows this... uncomfortably well. He’s been putting off coming out since he realized it maybe a week ago, when he was watching Richie’s old comedy sets.

It’s not the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him, but it’s close. When Eddie does tell people, he’s not going to mention his big gay awakening - which was more like a gradual unfurling after Derry which he didn’t let himself think about until he got hit over the head and decided yes, okay, _fine_ , while he was watching a truly awful set Richie did in his late 20s. 

It wasn’t anything specific. If it was anything specific, then it was Richie’s dumb fucking smile and - and his eyes. And the way he laughed that one time at two minutes in, his head falling back with it, body shaking. And that thing Eddie had been trying not to think about had finally risen to the surface, undeniable, unstoppable.

Eddie’s left his wife. Hopefully he’ll grow the balls to come out anytime now.

Just - probably not on this road trip. Might be awkward to share a motel room with Richie when he knows that Eddie -

 _Nope_ , Eddie thinks. _Not finishing that thought._

As they get into the room, he dumps his bags and says, “I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Right,” Richie says, the first thing he’s said since the desk. “‘Cause you brush your teeth at night.”

Eddie frowns at him. “Yeah, wh - do you not brush your-”

Richie shrugs.

Eddie is suddenly white hot with rage.

“You’re telling me,” he says, “You brush your teeth _once-_ ”

“I have great genetics, teeth-wise, I don’t need-”

“It’s basic hygiene,” Eddie hisses. He’s gesturing in a way that he knows Richie will mock later, but he can’t bring himself to care. “It’s - you - twice a day, two minutes a day, a _child_ knows that, Rich-”

Richie flops down on his bed, talking over him: “Go brush your pearly whites, your oh-so-pearly - have you ever heard of overbrushing, Eds?”

“-Your DAD was a DENTIST,” Eddie yells. “You can’t-”

Someone pounds on the wall. 

They look at it.

Richie makes a face.

“Well,” he says, stage-whispering. “Those guys will _not_ like us, if they can’t take a little bickering.”

“Bickering,” Eddie says. “Is that what we do? We bicker?”

Richie flashes his teeth. They look perfectly healthy.

“All day, every day, baby,” Richie says. 

Eddie feels his cheeks heat. He turns around and heads into the bathroom with his toothbrush, trying not to think about Richie’s smile, his damnably pink mouth shaping the word _baby_.

As Eddie’s wetting his brush, Richie comes in. 

“Budge over,” Richie says. He’s holding a toothbrush.

Eddie narrows his eyes. Richie gets into his space and puts his toothbrush under the water, then reaches for the toothpaste, squirts a line onto the brush.

Then he starts brushing his teeth. 

Eddie stares.

“What,” Richie says, muffled with the toothbrush.

Eddie sighs. “You were fucking with me.”

“‘Course I was fucking with you, Eds,” Richie says, slow and throaty through the foam. He resumes brushing his teeth.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the sink as he brushes his own teeth. He doesn’t look in the mirror. He has a thing about toothpaste foam, ever since he was a kid. His mom never said anything about it, he just thinks it’s gross.

They stand there in front of the sink, arms pressed together. Richie’s elbow keeps bumping into his side as he brushes his teeth, because he moves his whole goddamn arm to do it. Eddie bumps back with his free arm, just because. They do this silently and softly.

There might be a charge in the air, or it might just be Eddie. He finishes brushing his teeth first, which is weird, because it means Richie’s going overtime. He spits in the sink, rinses his mouth out by cupping water with his hands, then wipes his hands on a towel and leaves back into the main room.

The sounds of brushing stop not long after Eddie leaves, but it takes Richie another couple minutes to come back out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The Weekly Losers Call happens. It hasn’t really been long enough for it to be called the Weekly Losers Call, but it’s what they call it anyway.

Eddie crowds in next to Richie to wave into the camera. Everyone waves back, saying hi in increasingly loud voices.

Mike’s glowing with the Florida sun by now, and there’s a beach in the background. In another screen, Bev and Ben wave from Ben’s house. In another, Bill grins from his study. And lastly, Stan and Patty are in the middle of cooking something. Patty ducks out of frame after a moment and calls something to Stan about spices.

“Eddie and Rich, have you killed each other yet,” Bill asks.

They both flip him off. Everyone laughs.

“We’re getting along great,” Richie says. “Only three screaming fights in the car so far.”

“It’s been, what,” Bev says. “30 hours?”

“We’re going _great_ ,” Richie repeats. He nudges Eddie in the side. They’re sitting on the same bed to fit in the phone frame. “No way he’s gonna smother me with a pillow. But if I do die before we make it to Cali, he definitely did it.”

“Wow,” Eddie says. “Thanks, man.”

Richie winks at him. Eddie tries to look unflustered and mostly succeeds, but when he looks back at the screen Stan is giving him a weirdly knowing look.

Eddie ignores it. “Mike, you still up for us to drop in when we get to you?”

“You know it,” Mike says, giving a big, cheesy thumbs up. “Come join me in the sunshine!”

“Only if Eddie lathers sunscreen on my back,” Richie says.

Eddie starts to imagine it, then has to stop himself.

“Keep dreaming,” he tells Richie, and then asks Mike about how Florida is, all the while thinking of Richie’s broad back under his hands, slick with sunscreen.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They’re taking the Southern route. It’s quieter - long stretches of nothing. Their reasoning - or, Eddie’s reasoning - was that he’d already be stressed about the impending divorce and after the shitshow that was Derry, he’d want the quiet. Or as much quiet as he could get while on a road trip with Richie Tozier.

He’d expected Richie to argue. And Richie had, but for about thirty seconds - wheedling about Niagara Falls and Mount Rushmore - before he’d given in, making Eddie think he genuinely didn’t care and just wanted to bitch for the sake of bitching.

On day three of the drive, Eddie’s kind of regretting taking the quiet route. Long stretches of nothing mean that there’s no distracting Eddie from Richie, who is constantly right there next to him. Which would be much less of a problem if Eddie hadn’t worked out that a) he’s gay and b) he’s in love with Richie, right before Eddie stuck himself in a car with him for two weeks.

 _We could be standing next to Niagara Falls right now_ , Eddie thinks as Richie shifts in his seat, his arm muscles flexing as he holds the steering wheel. 

Eddie eyes them and then looks away, out at the road. He can’t believe he turned down the chance to stand near a roaring waterfall, possibly the world’s best and loudest distraction, in favor of shutting himself in an enclosed space where the only thing they can do, other than talk, is turn the music up.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They see the world’s largest fake carrot in North Carolina.

It’s underwhelming. They only stop because they see a sign, but it’s the only actual “attraction” they’ve seen. So far it’s just been driving and stopping to eat and sleep.

Richie sends a photo to the group chat. It has two laugh reacts after less than a minute.

“We can do another trip,” Eddie says when they get back to the car.

Richie looks over from the passenger’s seat. It’s Eddie’s turn to drive. 

“What?”

“You’ve been - uh, quiet,” Eddie says. “We can do other road trips. Ones where we actually _do_ stuff. If you want.”

Richie’s fingers flex in his lap.

“I,” Eddie says, and pauses. “I appreciate that we’re going the quiet way-?”

“Dude,” Richie says. “It’s - come on. I’m not gonna drag you around to - to America’s Greatest Hits if you _actually_ don’t want to go. That’s not what the trip’s about, anyway.” 

“No?”

“No.”

Eddie tries to remember what they’d planned in high school. He starts the car.

“What was it about, then,” he asks.

Richie waves his hands at the landscape. “The travel, Eds! The - the road in front of us, the world at our feet. The journey itself!”  
He stops. Eddie watches him watch the passing houses, then watches the road.

“And, y’know,” Richie says. “Getting as far away from Derry as possible. That was a big part of it, too.”

“Right,” Eddie says. That, he remembers.

 _We’ll get out of here together,_ Richie had told him, his eyes wet, standing at Eddie’s window that night. _C’mon, Eds -_

Eddie blinks. He’s always liked driving. It doesn’t numb him out, exactly, but it’s a good distraction. He focuses on the yellow lines in the road, which, as he speeds up, turn into one big line that never breaks.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When they meet Mike at his Florida motel, he’s dressed almost like Richie, what with the baggy Hawian button-down, except he’s wearing shorts and sandals. He grins when he sees them in the parking lot, and rushes up.

“Whoa, hey,” Eddie says when he locks them both in a tight hug, but when Mike tries to pull away, both Eddie and Richie pull him back in and squeeze.

“How’s Florida,” Richie asks after the hug ends.

Mike laughs. “Sun and sand, guys!”

“And the rest of it?”

“I’m leaving next week.”

Richie slaps his shoulder. “There we go.”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “Turns out Florida is only for me in the short term.”

They start towards the motel. Eddie sweats through his shirt.

“Where to next,” he asks Mike.

Mike shrugs. “Who knows? Big world out there. Hey, you guys like milkshakes?”

“Yes,” Richie says, at the same time Eddie says, “Oh, I can’t-”

“They have dairy free ones.”

Richie looks over at Eddie, eyebrows raised.

Eddie relents.

“Let’s go get a milkshake,” he says.

“Great,” Mike says. “I know a place you’re gonna love-”

He slings an arm over each of their shoulders, which ends up looking very weird, considering how tall Richie is.

Richie bends for it, and gives Eddie a look so dry he has to choke back a laugh.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
It’s the best milkshake Eddie’s had in years. Admittedly, he hasn’t had a milkshake since college, where he had a mini-rebellious phase before lapsing back into the guy he thought he had to be. So any milkshake might’ve blown his mind at this point.

But Mike and Richie agree on the quality of the milkshakes, so Eddie thinks that it’s genuine. He gets a chocolate one, and sucks it down in two minutes flat. Richie takes this as a competition offer and does the same, then has to lie his forehead down on the table after the resulting brain freeze.

Mike beams at them both throughout this. He seems proud that they liked the milkshake place, and Eddie thinks, as he sometimes does when it comes to Mike, about the long decades he spent remembering everything. Remembering everything in _Derry_ , the lonely lighthouse keeper staying in a place he hated, waiting until IT’s next cycle came around. 

Sometimes Mike looks at them with such _relief_. Like he can’t believe they’re there.

Eddie can relate. Not in the same way, but still. Even with the shitshow that was Derry 2.0, Eddie’s eternally grateful that Mike called them back to each other.

Some time after the milkshakes are done, Richie goes to the bathroom. The door’s not even closed behind him when Eddie says, “Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m, uh.” Eddie’s mouth moves around nothing for a moment. He thinks about saying _nevermind_ , then he thinks about throwing that fence post into IT’s mouth, about telling Myra they needed a divorce.

“I’m - gay,” he says, and holds his breath.

Mike’s eyebrows raise, but only a little. He smiles, soft and surprised.

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. Great. Am I - have you told anyone else?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Just you.”

“Okay,” Mike says again. “I - wow. It’s an honour, man.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Seriously,” Mike says. He reaches over and clasps Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you told me.”

“Yep,” Eddie says, trying to swallow that stubborn lump in his throat. “Thanks, Mikey.”

Mike squeezes his shoulder, then lets go.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, “but is there a reason you’re telling me first rather than, uh.”

He nods towards the bathroom.

“What,” Eddie says. “The resident gay of the Losers Club?”

“Yeah, him.”

“I,” Eddie says. He shrugs, swallows again, but the lump doesn’t go down. His throat clicks around it. “I just - don’t want things to be awkward?”

“Do you think Richie will make them awkward?”

“No,” Eddie says, after a pause. “I. I, um. He’s.”

He covers his face with his hands.

“Oh,” Mike says. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, muffled. He peeks out from his hands. “Don’t tell him?”

Mike crosses his heart. Eddie snorts. He’d forgotten Mike used to do that. 

“I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to tell him,” Mike says. 

The bathroom door opens. 

“Thanks, Mike,” Eddie says, fast. 

Mike nods, and they sit there in silence until Richie slides back into the booth, rapping his hands on the table.

“What’d I miss?”

Mike looks at Eddie. There’s no pressure in the gaze, just a question.

Eddie sighs.

“Actually,” he says, “I was just telling Mike about something.”

Richie says, “Yeah? Pray tell.”

So Eddie does.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When they enter Texas, Richie says, “Did you,” and then stops.

Eddie looks over. It’s his turn to drive again, so he looks back at the road almost immediately.

“What,” he says.

“Nah,” Richie says. “Nothing.”

“What?”

Richie hesitates. “I was going to make a gay joke about a road trip through Texas? Like - I immediately thought of _oh, the Southern route, I’m gonna be nervous about getting lynched, ha ha,_ and - I don’t know, maybe you did. As well. Because-”

He waves over at Eddie.

“But then I couldn’t come up with a way to phrase it,” he continues. “So.”

Eddie nods.

“I did think about it,” he says. “I just. I don’t know, we’re not - obviously - uh, gay? And we’re just gonna be driving through-”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Yeah.”

They sit in silence for another couple minutes.

Eddie reaches over and turns the radio on to the tape player. It’s Queen, which they said they’d listen to on their road trip in high school. Richie had gotten a tape of it for the trip. He’d found it as he was preparing to come to New York, in a storage locker. He’d sent a photo to Eddie with the caption _little Rich and little Eds would be proud!!! Gonna tear up this road trip._

Eddie doesn’t remember what he’d replied.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Things don’t change all that much. 

They still argue over where to get to eat - choosing can be a half an hour debate, usually won by someone throwing up their hands and giving in - except when they’re in long stretches of nothing, where they encounter a gas station once every three hours and it’s that or starve. Even then, they find a way to argue over what food to take on the road.

They still talk like they always do, long, circular talks that have them curling up with laughter and smacking each other, fights that end in screaming or laughter or screaming laughter. They don’t wrestle, because they can’t get away with it now, for more reasons that existed when they were sixteen.

The road trip continues like it had before. When they come across fields of cows, Richie points at them and says, “Cows,” like he has every time he sees them. They go into gift shops and bicker over getting nick-nacks. Eddie continues to lament the shitty dietary options in gas stations.

But there’s a tension now, like Eddie thought there would be if he came out on this trip. He oscillates between regretting it and being relieved it’s out - he comes out to the group chat the night after they meet up with Mike, and he’s met with heartfelt thanks for telling them. He also gets multiple private messages asking how the road trip’s going, which he answers blandly, without mentioning Richie.

Richie is - 

Something. He’s definitely _something_ about Eddie coming out. He’d been surprised, more than anyone else in the group, but he’d tried not to show it after the initial smacked-over-the-head expression he’d had in the milkshake place. He’d thanked Eddie for telling him, like everyone else, and said he was glad he wasn’t the only homo in the group, and has been perfectly good about it ever since.

Except - there’s definitely something there. Eddie doesn’t know what it is. He knows what he _hopes_ it is, but when it comes down to it - he doesn’t know what it is and he doesn’t know if he’s going to find out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In New Mexico, they go to a beach. 

Eddie rubs sunscreen on Richie’s back. 

Richie doesn’t ask for it - he’d joked about it earlier on the trip, but how it happens is that Richie is on the sand trying to reach all his bare skin after Eddie yells at him about skin cancer. He’s struggling, and trying to distract Eddie from his struggling by doing a running commentary on the inner lives of seagulls, when Eddie snaps.

“Give me that,” he says, and takes the sunscreen bottle from Richie’s free hand.

Richie turns around.

“Turn the other way,” Eddie tells him.

Richie says, “Uh.”

“Just do it,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna let you develop a mole that kills you just because you’re too stubborn to let someone put sunscreen on you.”

Richie blinks at him, his expression unreadable, but turns away and gives Eddie access to his back. 

Eddie swallows as he puts a circle of sunscreen in his hands. 

_Don’t think about it,_ he tells himself, but it’s difficult with the reality of Richie’s warm, bare back under his hands. It’s sun-warm, but it’s also blood-warm, and Eddie rubs big circles into it before he slows down and tries to be thorough rather than fast. He finds himself counting the vertebrae in Richie’s spine before he makes himself stop. The muscles in Richie’s back are tense as Eddie rubs cream into his shoulder blades. He gets his shoulders, too, and the start of his arms before Richie pulls away. 

“I can get the rest of it,” Richie says, the first thing he’s said since giving Eddie the sunscreen. He won’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

“Okay,” Eddie says.

Richie rubs the rest on hastily - face, legs, arms, front. Eddie watches him touch his face, smoothing sunscreen into the hollow of his throat, and has to look away.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After the beach, they go to the Roswell UFO museum. Richie’s less enthused about it than Eddie expects - Richie was a real alien nut as a kid, he used to get all those trashy magazines about extraterrestrial encounters.

Eddie tries to get him to talk about it, and Richie does, but he needs a lot of prompting and it’s obvious his heart isn’t in it.

When they get to the gift shop, Eddie gets them both a keychain shaped like an alien head.

“Here,” he says when he gets back to the car. Richie had waited in there while Eddie was in the shop, and when Eddie gets in he’s sitting there in the driver’s seat, hands set at ten and two. He takes the two hand off to catch the keychain, and turns it over in his hands.

“Radical,” he says. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

He tucks it into his pocket and gives Eddie a smile that Eddie clocks at 80% real.

“Hey,” Richie says as Eddie’s clicking the seatbelt into place. “Do you - are things gonna be weird when you move in now?”

Eddie goes cold. 

“Uh,” he says. “Not for me? Is - like, do you think we shouldn’t-”

Richie’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head.

“No, dude, I just-”

“If you’re uncomfortable,” Eddie starts, and Richie laughs as he cuts him off, sharp and jerky.

“Unc - why the fuck would I be uncomfortable!”

Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it.

“You seem kind of uncomfortable,” he says slowly.

Richie hunches into his shoulders. There’s still some leftover residue of the sunscreen, so his face looks tight and sticky.

Eddie says, “Rich, if you don’t want me to live with you, I’m-”

“Of course I want you to live with me,” Richie says, too loud, almost snappish. He winces after this, and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Eddie says when Richie doesn’t continue. 

Richie sighs. “Do you still want to live with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Eds.”

“I _do_ ,” Eddie says. “Rich, I-” 

He stops, swallows. When he speaks again, it’s all forced lightness.

“Finally living out our teenage dreams, right,” he says. “Road tripping across the country? Living together in a big city? Just like we talked about. It took us a while, but we’re finally getting to it.”

Richie stares at him. There’s something behind his eyes that kind of makes Eddie want to cry.

“Right,” Richie says. He blinks hard, looks away. “Yeah, we’re finally - yeah.”

Eddie leans back into his seat. After a second, Richie twists the key in the ignition and the car rumbles to life.

 _The story can resume,_ Eddie thinks, aching with it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The desert doesn’t end. That’s what it feels like, anyway. But it’s felt like that before on this trip, with endless fields of corn or plains.

Still, Eddie finds it easy to look out into the horizon, then back at where they’ve come from, and imagine the desert stretching out into forever.

It’s in the endless desert, in a tiny town that thankfully as wifi, that Eddie Googles the rest of that quote. It turns out he’s been remembering that line right, and the quote comes up on the first search.

 _Dearest Cecelia_ , it starts. _The story can resume -_

Eddie reads it. Then he reads it again. He keeps re-reading it until Richie gets back to the car with directions and orange juice, which Eddie had asked him for. 

He chucks it in Eddie’s lap, says, “Guess what? We’re on the right road. You owe me a-”

He stops, looks more closely at Eddie.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Eddie says, and it comes out like gravel. He clears his throat. He’s sweating, since the air conditioning stops when the car does. 

He puts his phone in his pocket. 

“I’m good,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Richie looks at him for a while longer, but eventually he starts the car and they’re off again, into the desert.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They find a motel late at night. There are, thankfully, rooms left, and even one with two beds. 

Richie flops gratefully down onto his bed when they get into the room. Eddie sits on his. He’s tired, sure, but his mind is racing.

He can’t stop thinking about that quote. He remembers more of the story now he has the title, but mostly he thinks about the quote.

All this time between leaving Derry as a teenager and coming back in middle age, it felt like he was - waiting. Or, it felt like he was searching for something. Both at once, maybe. And when he walked into that restaurant and saw the Losers, something old finally clicked into place.

 _Oh_ , he’d thought, looking at their faces, which were changed and yet so familiar. _There you are_ . _I’ve been waiting -_

The quote makes him think of that moment. That moment, and the moment he’d opened the window the night before he moved to find Richie standing there to ask if Eddie would run away with him.

 _I’ve been waiting to resume_ , Eddie thinks as he watches Richie lie on the bed across from him, chest rising and falling with his breath. As he watches, Richie lets out a groan and pushes himself up.

“Ugh,” he says. “Okay, time to wash the sweat off.”

“And brush your teeth,” Eddie hears himself say.

Richie gives him a weary finger-guns.

“Twice a day, b-” He stops. Looks lost. Goes into the bathroom and closes the door.

 _Baby_ , Eddie mouths as the door closes. He imagines Richie calling him that, imagines Richie’s mouth tantalizingly close, calling him _baby_.

In the bathroom, the shower turns on.

Eddie inhales slow and hard. He breathes it out and then gets out his phone. The quote is still there when he tabs into it:

_“Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume._

_The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library._

_The story can resume. I will return._

_Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”_

Eddie thinks of Richie at sixteen years old, looking at Eddie through his window, just after Eddie closed it. He thinks of Richie the next day, waving at Eddie’s car, getting further and further away, then vanishing into the distance and not seeing him again for decades.

It’s been a long time, but Eddie - now, at least - can recall both of those images like they’ve just happened.

In the bathroom, the water continues to run.

 _The story can resume_ , Eddie thinks, and gets up. He puts his phone down on his bed and walks to the bathroom door. 

He knocks.

There’s a pause, and then, over the water running: “Uh, occupied?”

“I need to talk to you,” Eddie says.

Another pause. “Can it wait? I’m almost naked here, dude.”

Eddie makes sure his voice will be steady, then says, “Nope. Talking now. How naked are you?”

“Uhhhh,” Richie says, his voice strangely pitched. “I’m - boxers? Let me put my pants back on, I-”

Eddie opens the door.

Richie startles, just a little. He’s standing there in his boxers, straightening up from where he’d been bending down to grab his shorts.

“Jesus,” Richie says. He grabs his glasses from the sink and puts them on. “Is someone getting murdered? What’s so important it can’t wait for me to get-”

Eddie walks up to him. Richie’s words die fast.

Eddie’s fingers twitch at his sides. He’s seen Richie showing this much skin earlier today on the beach, but that was the _beach_ . This is a bathroom, and Richie’s in his boxers, and there’s a lot of new context that seems to be revealing itself to Richie right now, judging by the stunned look on his face. 

“Eds,” Richie says. His voice cracks. “Uh, what’s - what-”

Eddie kisses him. That’s all the point of contact there is at first, their mouths meeting, Richie making a stifled gasp against Eddie’s mouth as the pressure firms up. Then Eddie gets with the program and lifts his hands, puts them on Richie’s shoulders. He thumbs at the muscles there, the broadness of them, all that warm, sweaty skin. He strokes, first at the shoulders then up Richie’s neck, brushing the line of his jaw, the new stubble there.

“Eds,” Richie says. It’s mumbled and terrified, and it makes Eddie pull back. 

Richie’s eyes are still wide, but now they’re wet. His breathing is ragged.

“What’s going on here,” he says, voice rough with hope.

Eddie wants to tell him everything, but he can’t find the words.

“I wanted to do that in high school,” he says instead.

Richie’s throat clicks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He strokes up Richie’s face to get to his cheek. “Wanted to do a lot of things with you in high school.”

Richie’s voice breaks. “Yeah?”

“I mean,” Eddie says. “I didn’t let myself think about it? But under it, if I was honest - yeah. I did. And I wanted - I should’ve said yes to that road trip.”

Richie’s hands come up to Eddie’s arms. Touch his elbows, a little disbelievingly, like he’s not sure this isn’t a heat-induced mirage. The water’s been turned up too hot and the bathroom is slowly filling with steam, curling up around their ankles.

“And I do wanna live with you,” Eddie says. “I want - if _you_ want-”

“I want,” Richie croaks. “I - shit, Eds, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Eddie says. “I - whatever you wanted in high school, living together in a big city and whatever - I think you knew more about me than this. About us. Whatever you wanted back then, let’s - we can do that now.”

Richie laughs. It’s wet. “Teenage-Rich never let himself want this. Or, he didn’t let himself think about it a lot, it felt weird to - fuck, _adult_ Rich didn’t let himself imagine it much - I didn’t think you’d-”

He shakes his head, staring down at Eddie. His hair is stiff with dry sweat, and Eddie runs his hand through it.

“I do,” Eddie says. “I do, Rich.”

He leans up and kisses him again. 

Richie’s hands waver for a moment, then come and rest around Eddie’s waist. Eddie steps closer, and Richie holds him, and they press together, all that bare skin up against Eddie’s front.

Richie makes a noise in his throat as Eddie touches his chest, slides his hands down his ribs. Eddie really didn’t think about this in high school, other than some guilty dreams he tried to block out upon waking. If he ever caught himself staring too long at Richie, he purposely didn’t ask himself why. He didn’t sit around and daydream about touching Richie like this, didn’t put a name to the feeling that pulsed through him when they swam together in the quarry and Richie emerged from the water, half-naked and dripping.

 _We can resume_ , Eddie thinks, and tilts Richie’s head to kiss him deeper.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Los Angeles comes up. It comes up slow, because they keep getting distracted and staying longer in motel rooms for longer than they need to.

At some point they send a photo of themselves lying in bed together to the group chat. This provokes a surprise Facetime, where everyone yells congratulations at them and Ben and Bev show them their new puppy, which doesn’t have anything to do with anything except it happens at the same time.

Eddie drives for the last stretch of the road trip. Soon they’ll be able to see the LA skyline, and an hour after that they’ll be in Richie’s house, and he’ll help Eddie unpack. By now all of his stuff has been delivered from New York, which means they’ll probably spread out the unpacking over a few days. Eddie has the feeling they’re gonna get “distracted” again, so it’ll probably take longer than it should.

He’s not too worried about that. He’s not thinking much about unpacking at all, and when Richie asks him about it, Eddie tells him this.

“What’re you thinking about, then?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, and then knows it’s not true.

 _Resuming_ , he doesn’t say.

Aloud, he says: “Us, I guess. Making ourselves a life.”

Richie goes quiet at that, in the way he sometimes does when Eddie says something like that. It’s okay, though, because Richie likes it. He doesn’t say so, but even when he gets quiet he’ll have this soft, near-overwhelmed look that turns into a smile.

Then, because he’s Richie, he says, “You know we’re not going to have your standard of cleaning supplies, right?”

Eddie shoots him a look. “We can buy some?”

“No, like-” Richie gestures. “I assume you have to get your huge array of cleaning supplies shipped in from Uruguay, or wherever you get them from. Fancy ones. New-age ones-”

“Oh, right,” Eddie says. “ _Those_ cleaning supplies. _Obviously_ we’ll get those shipped in. Or, y’know. Get a cleaner.”

“But will the cleaner be up to your _standard_ , Edward-”

“We’ll do trial runs,” Eddie says. 

Richie laughs. “With the cleaner?”

“Yes! That’s what you do with employees. You give them a trial run-”

“We still pay them, right?”

Eddie makes a face at him, then looks back at the road.

“Yeah, we’re not assholes.”

“I once did an 8 day shift at a rollerskating diner in my 20s,” Richie says, “and they didn’t pay me shit because _“it was a trial run, sir, you’re not employed here and we don’t pay people who aren’t our employees._ ””

“What the fuck,” Eddie says. “Those fucking dicks. Who are these guys? And hold up, a roller-skating-”

“It’s not in business anymore-”

“A _roller-skating_ diner, Rich?”

Richie flashes a smile at him. “You bet. Wanna guess how many times I fell over while holding a customer’s food?”

“Oh, god,” Eddie says. “How did you last 8 hours?”

Richie smacks his lips. “I’m just that charming, baby.”

Eddie grins, picturing a mid-20s Richie on roller skates, going sprawling and dumping a customer’s soup all over them. He also thrums with Richie calling him _baby_ , which is - a thing. He’s noticed it enough now that it’s definitely a _thing_.

“One more time,” he says, not looking at him.

“What?”

“The-” Eddie jerks his head at him. “What you called me.”

Richie is quiet for a moment. Then he leans over, putting his hand on Eddie’s knee and leaning in so his mouth brushes Eddie’s ear.

“Nobody puts baby in a corner,” he says, in a passable Patrick Swayze voice.

Eddie snorts. 

“What,” Rich says, pulling back. “Not doing it for you?”

Eddie sighs. 

“No, that worked,” he admits. “Mostly. Say it like you, though.”

Richie’s gaze goes gentle. He leans in again.

“Hey, baby,” he says, soft and fond. 

Eddie says, “ _There_ we go.” 

In the distance, the LA skyline fades into view.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hit me up on my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/)!


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